Nike
by Ekuboryu
Summary: A Mage character awakens while running in a marathon


            Fanfiction for Mage…kinda…near the end. The character is awakening. I don't own any of the system yada yada and so forth

Sinister. Dexter. Sinister. Dexter. 

            _I'm not going to make it _Lloyd thought, bitterly.  He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. _ Why did I think that I could make it? _ _The first man to ever run a marathon collapsed and died after he delivered his message.  The human body was not meant for this kind of crap.  _His chest rose and fell.  He clenched his fists tighter.  _ I'm not going to make it.  _It couldn't be more than sixty out but he was drenched in sweat.  _I'm not in anywhere near as good of shape as I was in during high school, and I couldn't make it then. _

_            I'll bet that guy was carrying a few dozen pounds of armor. _He mused _A few score maybe. I bet he went into cardiac arrest. _

Sinister. Dexter. 

            _Screw Latin. _He admonished mentally, gathering a sweaty lock of hair and twisting it off of his face. _It has no rhythm. _ He started counting his steps in marching time, a personal cadence. Too bad he didn't know any marches or he could hum one to go along with it.  Maybe all that blood in his ears could help him keep time.  

            _I shouldn't have eaten that cereal this morning. _He thought. _I'm gonna retch all over my shoes. I wish James hadn't felt the need to stay out so late drinking.  He's so loud when he's drunk  I should have gotten more sleep. I should have been doing more running. I haven't run a marathon any other time, why am I expecting to make it through it today. I should have worked harder, trained harder.   _He came to a row of cones and swung himself around the corner. A pink chalk arrow indicated where the route should continue.  Lloyd's background percussionist beat on. _ I should imagine myself running to Sousa. I wish I could think of some Sousa. _ The rhythmic counting carried him, four steps at a time in 4/4 time.  

            _This is farther than I made it last time. I might make it. Please, God, let me make it. I'm not taking your name in vain, either. That's an honest prayer. Really.  _Lloyds hands, balled into fists at he end of his right angled arms reached forward to meet in front of him   _Dear God, grant me the strength of body and soul to carry me through this. And the strength of heart in the literal sense that I don't yell "Nike" and die afterwards. _Lloyd had always thought that running was half a feat of  the body and half a feat of the will. That being the case, strength fed strength and weakness fed weakness.  _Help me believe that I can do this. _

_            I will do this._

Lloyd fell on beat three. Actually he tripped on beat three and fell on four, one and two.  His toe hit the pavement sideways, his ankle twisted and he fell forwards, onto his side.  Pain shot up his left leg. 

            "Shit." He rolled his lip under his teeth and pulled his legs in front of him.  The ear pulse was still going, if he got up now he might be able to get his rhythm back.  He rocked back, supporting himself on his feet and his elbows, but pain shot up the leg again and he let it stretch out. 

            "Damnit." Tears of pain and frustration began to gather in the corners of Lloyd's eyes.  To think he had been running for five hours to fall now.    He rubbed at his wet eyes with his palms, but between the sweat and the bits of asphalt they had gathered they only made his eyes begin to sting as well. He punched the ground.  And repeated himself "Damnit."  

            _I have to make it. _ Lloyd thought, swallowing _I decided I was going to, a whole thirty seconds ago. I can't give up now.  If I don't get up my parents will find me crying.  _

_Get up, Lloyd. _He pulled his feet towards him again and tried to rock to his feet, but the pain got worse.  He relaxed again and swallowed the saliva that was building up in his mouth and wrapped his hand around his ankle.  The sock was soaked in sweat, his fingers squished into it like it was a washcloth.   He felt his face contort with the pain.  

            It wasn't broken.  Maybe it was twisted.  It also was messed up beyond his ability to fix it with a quick massage.  Maybe if he hadn't lost his rhythm he would be able to get up, motion made you forget the pain, but now, suddenly he could feel every little ache.   There was no way he was getting up. 

The lip rolled under his teeth again as he ran a dirty finger around the scrape on his shin.  He moved it further in and ran the finger around the bloody mess in a big circle, massaging it with his sweaty hand.  If he only had a kleenex he could stop himself from becoming a bloody mess as well as the various other sorts of mess he was.  He winced and ran his sweaty thumb across the scrape. 

            And it was gone. 

            Lloyd coughed. Twice. "What did I just do?" 

            There could be no question, no two ways about it.  That cut was gone, and where it had been there was now nothing but clean unblemished skin.  

            Well. Dirty, asphalt covered, sweaty and bloody skin. But whole skin.  "Did I imagine that?" he asked himself, quietly. There was blood. The cut had to have been there, but now it wasn't and that was plain. 

            "I did that." He affirmed, quietly. "I did." He spit on his hands and wrapped them around the ankle again. "Come on. I have to get up. I have to. Please."  He took a deep breath "Please." His eyes slid shut. 

"Sir?"  

Lloyd looked up. He had no idea how long he had been curled here on the asphalt, hugging his ankle, but behind him a man in a white shirt was looking intently into his face.  Lloyd recognized him as he recognized his white car with the logo on the door.  Emergency staff.  

"Sir? Are you okay." 

Lloyd  blinked at the man, his concentration dissipating and shook his head "I did something to my ankle…" he winced as the man helped him up. 

But all the pain was gone. 

"It's alright now though. It healed up too…" he said, slowly

The man looked at him, quizzically. "You probably just had a little fall." He said, slowly, as if he didn't expect to be forced to explain this to a grown man, especially one who knew his body as well as some runners.

"You're right." Lloyd said. "It was just a fall." He knew better. He was going to have to talk to someone about this at the end of the race.  It was like something out of the books the old lady down the street had forced on him since he was a child. _I wasn't hallucinating. I know I wasn't._

"Sir?" 

Lloyd jumped "Huh?" 

"Do you need a ride? Do you have family waiting at the finish line?" 

"Oh…yeah." Lloyd replied, taking a deep breath. "But don't worry about it. I'll get there myself." 

   __


End file.
